Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Maura Jul 12
I’d like to be a natural girl
aesthetically home-grown
A DIY princess
Instagram goddess
Externally signaling I’m internally pure

But I’m not.

I’m sharper
Internally slicing and picking
Instagram ghost
too lazy for a consistent aesthetic
Dreading attention

Yet I’m afraid of being forgotten
While equally terrified of the spotlight
an in between
Inner ego fighting the fact
One day I’ll die

What’s curious though,
Is my digital life may be buried
Long after my ashes
An Internet branded shell
Of who I once was
Maura Jan 17
There are certain memories that stick
visceral moments so vivd that the time of them feels stuck
like a tac on my wall, holding a snapshots in place

when I make meaning from what feels like nothing
it's like I'm able to trace back through the web of time
pausing at each moment
pondering how I didn't see the bigger picture before

almost like playing telephone through a wire & metal cup
a game that's easily misinterpreted
what it's like trying to communicate with the universe.
Maura Nov 2020
The veins of my eyelids
a sharp toned red
transforms into a blinding white
my eyes swivel to peak at the sun

I want the light to seep into my bones
longing to instead be a plant
slowly photosynthesizing

It would be easier perhaps,  
to whisper sweet nothings
to the wind
rather than tightening my throat
strangled by my human body
the grief never quite leaving my lips

Shadows cross my bedside  
shapes of blowing leaves tumble over
as the sun turns her head west
I watch the flurries of colors pass by
I'd be better if the sun didn't go down at 4:00p
  Oct 2020 Maura
JParker
A hallway.
for me and you
was a couple of leaps between shadows
to
laughter followed by scolding
and
right back to the hallway again.

Once,
You made
Five hundred and thirty-six miles
A hallway.

A carpet trail
Turned sinuous backcountry roads
In the dark of late fall,
The skeletal trees
Of Upstate New York
Unlike our home’s shoe-print walls.

My eyes burned with relief
At the headlights of your car.
Lugging puffy blankets through my door
Laughing at your air mattress,
To my roommate’s dismay,
Taking up the floor.

From highways to new hallways
Laced with your memories  
Those concrete corridors
In their freedom-filled, fluorescent glory.

To our current hallway,
Where your door mirrors mine
Where you paint with 5 o’clock sunlight
On my freckled face.
The smell of cheaply brewed coffee
That we separately make.
Maura Oct 2020
Two white candles
I light each night for you
one matches your favorite scent
a lavender
the other, plastered with a photograph
of the three of us

It took three matches to light four candles
and when even that wasn't enough,
I took the red advent candle from our kitchen table,

It bled onto the white candles
passing along the flame
seeping into the wax
splashing onto my blanket
oozing into my journal

Now when I go to light the candles
they burn the wax now orange
and I drip
until I stream
and pour
longing
as these candles bleed
Answer: it takes three matches, and an advent candle
Maura Oct 2020
They come to claim the carcasses
whispering sweetly underground
tentacles returning energy back to the earth
******* and spitting
pumping their wisdom into the dirt

Swaying slowly craning their heads towards the sun
These humble creatures in clusters dot the wooded bog
their work mostly undetected to human eyes
speaking in ancient languages and casting spells
carefully tending the land,
keeping the peace

mushroom mediums
between the living and the dead
pulsing with fungal renewal
holding the power
of natures neural network  
a vast information of knowledge  
unknown
If only I could know what the mushrooms know
Maura Oct 2020
They say, the dying are greeted, by their mothers
She comes for them at the end
Her love reaching further than bookends
Loving before, when you’re but an idea
A single cluster of cells,
Pregnantly waiting,
For birth

You came into the world quickly,
Precariously, the way you moved in life
Your pace blazing—light speed  
A glow that burned from the beginning

You were likely, the first person I ever held,
Me being too little to hold onto anything much bigger
But of course I adored you right away,
Right from when I first held you,
You made more than a daughter

You left the world quickly too,
during the month the sun burns the hottest,
August sweeping you into the air.
So I wonder, who came for you?

What I like to imagine,
and most desperately hope,
Is that you were greeted by a softness
A loving net cast by our grandmothers
Rocking you slowly
Pulling you back into our linage
Next page